Swelling Truth I Hide Behind

Taken into the scene, by two
tiny pictures holstering dreams
framed in gleaming chestnut
but the fog of breath on glass

obstructs the view, the pursuit
disheveling hues of conscious acts
the twisted truths, effortless fruits
and lurid pursuits turned lies

proof defined in the watch of eyes
grown cold as ice with time
as false lines rhyme time’s scheme
the crimes of sublime passion

confined in the traces of memories
still harboring forlorn feelings
of grief, inadequacy… and hope-
somehow it lingers, desperately.


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